


Never Found, Never Free

by Silverseeker24345



Category: Free!, Free! Eternal Summer - Fandom
Genre: Character death ahoy, Crime, Crime AU, Detective Noir, Fim noir au, I wrote this really late, M/M, and snort Free!, and think of noir, but I mostly wrote it for me, it's probably got some errors, pretty angsty, this is what happens when I listen to jazz, too many tags, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4346036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverseeker24345/pseuds/Silverseeker24345
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the smoky city of Iwatobi, there's a foul betrayal stemmed from a passionate affair. It all starts when Makoto lit his cigarette in the hall, the flash of those eyes and the flash of the barrel of that gun both catching him of guard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Found, Never Free

**Author's Note:**

> Okay~ So I totally got bit by the noir bug and I guess I just wanted a corny, gritty scene to be written for my boys. It's way past my bed time, so I apologize for any mistakes. I wrote this visualizing everything in black and white, so you might think it's fun reading it that way!

Tachibana looked up from his furrowed brow, hands behind his back, a nearly wistful smile tugging on his features while he was surrounded by the duo, one gun aimed at his back via the sultry and fiery vamp, complete with a mouth full of jagged fangs, and the other accurately targeted straight between the eyes from the one breath of fresh air that had since winded him and left him cold. It blew him away, the way that the hand holding that gun, the one that had lit his cigarette just yesterday, didn’t so much as quiver at the dejected betrayal that settled onto his shoulders, avoiding his eyes. Yamazaki was right, at least, if he was still alive and not gunned down in the name of the job. He was just relieved that the Ryugazaki kid and his sweet little blonde thing had made it out while the getting out was good, a day’s drive away, and a mysterious suitcase in the back that neither knew even resided in the trunk of their getaway car. Makoto had felt guilty for it then.

 

He was without remorse, here, and now, his heavy gaze dragging up to sizzle into that stoic, unbreakable, unyielding ice, just as unapologetic, though through the haze, Makoto glimpsed just a flash of self-doubt before it was gone, placating the gentle giant further than he was proud of. The pair closed in on him, a sort of death dance that enticed Makoto more than anything. He just needed an opening, a chance to reach for his own gun-

 

-that Matsuoka, the shark, slipped from his pocket, the barrel of his gun pressing with intent between Makoto’s shoulder blades, opening the barrel and letting the bullets fall onto the floor a heavy clunky tinkering like hail on the hardwood, more deliberate than Makoto would have normally given him credit for. Seven bullets rolled and bounced on the floor, the eighth disappearing as he spun around the chamber, letting it stop at random.

 

“On your knees, Tachibana.” The voice commanding him was familiar from that thin, sugary sweet mouth in front of him though somehow, foreign and unreadable. He let out a bitter scoff, the empty husk of a laugh.

 

“Now Nanase, sweetheart, I’ll get my nice suit all mussed up. Where’s the good sense in that?” He fluttered his eyelashes up at the other, who remained unfeeling, his perfect mask, unperturbed. “Though, I guess we both know that dirty laundry isn’t entirely new in this crowd, huh? Especially the Laundering that seems to have been going on outside of my closet.” He gave Haru a very pointed look, the ravenette’s edges faltering, if only just around those edges, but before he could count that as a victory, he was nudged with the barrel of Matsuoka’s gun once again.

 

“You heard him, Tachibana. On your knees, or you’ll have to worry about your ‘nice suit’ getting dirtied with your own blood.” Makoto faltered, slowly, shakily settling down to his knees. He held his tongue, swallowing a quip about how it was always one of Haru’s favorite positions while Rin clicked off the safety of Makoto’s gun and pointed it at the back of his head and he pulled the trigger. Makoto swallowed, eyes widening, Haru’s own eyes widened with disbelief and- what was that, remorse?

 

_-Click-_

 

“Seems like you’re lucky, Tachibana. We’re going to play a little game of roulette.” Makoto’s shoulders, strong and taught were nearly up to his ears, panic blasting against his ribcage like a wild animal, gaze pleading with Haru from across the way. He jumped when _\- click-_ Rin pulled the trigger again with a laugh. “I’m going to ask you where the money is, until I get the right answer.” Haru shot a look up at Rin, his stoicism breaking, a spark of frustration and anger to it that Makoto read as:

 

_Rin, don’t play with your food._

Or:

 

_This isn’t the plan._

 

Or even:

 

 

_I thought we agreed that I would be the one to kill him._

 

Of course that last one could have just been Makoto being a romantic. He had lost his touch with reading Haruka by now, wondering if he ever really had that intimacy with the lithe, willowy incubus made of ice, chalking the triste up to the Great Game, and Makoto wasn’t even a player, just one of the ones being played.

Now it looked like he was about to lose. Another obscene _click_ broke him out of his digression, shattering his trance as he kept his tired, sad gaze up at Haru, hurt apparent, offered to Haru and knocked away as the mask was snapped back over that pale, soft face.

“Where is the money?” Makoto laughed, bittersweet, like dark chocolate, warm and melting in his mouth.

 

“I don’t have a damn clue. A million miles away, I’d say.” The fourth _click_ counted down, echoing and rattling, the sound of it like a clock between his ears, speeding up, racing with his pulse.

 

“Wrong answer, Mako. Let’s try again.” Where Haru was only freezing up, the anxiety of this money, this getaway for them only making him more angular, more stony and logical, cracked Matsuoka around the edges, like a volcano, ready to erupt. This could be his opening. The barrel to his back was shaking, a certain desperation making the timbre of the sensitive gunman’s voice quiver, making him struggle for more control. “Where’s the money? Is it with Sousuke?” Did that mean that the other was alive? Makoto let out a shuddery breath in relieve, despite the situation.

“You’d be a better bet asking him that yourself. He’s sweet on you, you know. Well, whoever he thinks you are.”

 

_Click!_

 

_Click!_

 

“You don’t know a _damn_ thing! You think we _wanted_ this mess, Tachibana? We aren’t just some criminals, and I’m anything but a _goddamn liar_. Now where is the _fucking_ _money!_?” Matsuoka’s temper flared, providing a glimpse of that fiery and passionate spirit that Tachibana had come to admire. Makoto groaned, impacted knowing he only had two bullets, if that, to go.

 

_Click~_

 

Ah, just that, then, the trigger pulled before Makoto could even answer, the cracks apparent, the foundation shaking. Makoto felt pity, genuine sorrow for the man behind him, too pretty, too haughty, too in love with danger for his own damn good. It was a trait that had attracted Yamazaki to him, that violent passion that Sousuke had explained needed protecting. But Sousuke was nowhere to be found, and Makoto’s iron-clad patience had been waning under the intense pressure.

 

“I really don’t know, Rin.” There was a pause, long and heavy, much like the breathing of the man behind him, seeming to fight back desperate sobs, at the very least his own whimpers, choking silently and exhaling in a manner meant to calm himself, but no doubt just riling himself up more, the cord to his anchor snapping apart. Makoto winced, bracing himself for impact, Haru’s eyes glossy, his gaze far away, looking over Makoto’s shoulder like steal.

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

_-Click-_

 

Makoto visibly relaxed, his hulking form releasing the tension as Rin dropped the eighth bullet into his lap with a bitter laugh. “You’d be a waste to us with your brain splattered all over, wouldn’t you? Besides, Makoto, you know I always liked you. You can probably understand why we need it, right? We owe some very very mean guys. You’re not like them, right?” Makoto blinked while the barrel of Haru’s gun finally faltered. “Let’s head back into your office, and we can discuss this, like adults, starting with a thorough search in your desk." Makoto’s eyes sparkled before he swallowed it down. That was his chance. He stood, hands up leading the duo to the office and to the desk.

 

Makoto's feet were planted firmly beside Rin as he shakily unlocking his desk drawer, revealing the gun tucked away. There was a flash of recognition in Matsuoka’s eyes, still so alluring, but now so unhinged. Makoto’s chest felt tight, always the advocate for the use of anything but violence. Yamazaki’s voice echoed in his pretty head.

 

_‘One day, you’re going to need to hurt someone to survive. Just hope you’re ready for it.’_

 

 

Makoto could almost laugh at the irony. Instead, with a speed faster than any man of his size really ought to possess, he snatched Rin by his lovely, silky threads with one hand and reached his gun with the other. He smashed the exquisite man’s head against the table and snatched him back up. There was a gunshot, Haru looking as surprised as Makoto, his reaction delayed, not having foreseen Makoto’s abrupt leap out of his usual, self-enforced bounds, and even more surprised that Makoto had accidentally and impulsively used the other as a human shield, three sets of eyes locking on where the blood began to pool, damaging the pristine-white of Rin Matsuoka’s dress shirt. A look, almost like relief, almost like panic, almost like regret flickered in his eyes before that flame extinguished beneath heavy lashes, lips quivering, tears streaming, and he went limp, Makoto letting him go to fall into a heap onto the floor, remorseful, his own gun pointed at Haru.

 

He stepped over the body, his bitter smile, heavy with the weight of the sins of the world in his eyes and on his lips.

 

“I guess then, that we’re even.” Makoto flinched at Haru’s statement. Thinking Sousuke had gotten away was really just too good to be true, but he had to ask anyway.

 

“Yamazaki? But Rin said-”

 

 

“He was a threat. He needed to be eradicated. If I had told Rin, he would have been unreliable. ” Or at the very least, more unreliable. An icy understanding settled in Makoto’s gut. “I didn’t think you had it in you, though, Makoto.”His mask slipped away, vulnerability, betrayal behind those big, dark eyes. Makoto knew what this meant, that Haru had never seen him as a threat, and because of that, he had been safe. He also knew what that that soft sadness laying behind Haru’s inky, unreadable depths meant.

 

“And now you know I do. Now I’m the threat.” It was like a dance, Makoto stepping forward, Nanase stepping back, until Haru’s back was against the wall, neither of them finding the fallibility in the other’s focus while Makoto’s arm boxed Haru in, his gun pressed up under Haru’s chin, the barrel of Haru’s sitting just at the juncture where his ribs separated, his esophagus sputtering anxious acid in his system. The ghost of Makoto’s smile echoed on Haruka’s lips, sad, bitter, a melancholy upturn to his delicate mouth.

 

“You’re never going to find the money, Haruka.” A bitter laugh, like the tinkling of bells, only emptier, throatier, making Makoto shiver, the ice of the notion pumping in his veins.

 

“I know, Makoto.”

 

“I very nearly loved you.” The confession was but a whisper, Nanase’s eyelashes fluttering, though Makoto refused to take his shot, the air between them thick and electric, you could cut through it with a knife.

 

“I loved you, Makoto.” Makoto bit his lower lip, moving down to close the distance between them, Haruka’s eye’s fluttering shut.

 

 

There was a single gunshot, the collapse of a body, followed by a broken and quiet sob in the otherwise quiet night.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! I kind of really want to get more into this, but I don't know if I actually will. I just want to tap into everyone's backstory some more. This was all very shallow, what you see is what you get, but I had a lot of backstory driving it in my head. I hope you enjoyed!


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